


tales of the chosen one

by Qrth



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Houston Spies (Blaseball Team)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qrth/pseuds/Qrth
Summary: a collection of short oneshots for the Houston Spies player Morrow Wilson, who i've grown inexplicably attached to over the last week i've been into blaseball. i just think being the chosen one would come with a fair share of issues.
Kudos: 4





	1. rattling window

The window in Morrow’s living room won’t stop rattling. Like clockwork, every few minutes or so, a strong breeze will sweep by and shake the unsecured frame against the glass in a cacophony of noise, and then stop. The screws on the top half of the frame had been loosened before they had moved in here a few days ago, and Morrow just… hadn’t gotten around to fixing it.

They suppose it’s because they’re not really used to living alone yet. Back when they lived with Ruslan, things were very different. A rattling window would become painstaking hours of sitcom comedy, as Ruslan tried to fix it in his own “comedic” way. And Morrow would be swept up in it, and then see videos of them desperately trying to regain control of their home, and then ineffectively try to get all of it taken down. The cycle was infallible, and at a certain point, Morrow had just stopped being angry at it. They just got tired.

They shouldn’t be tired now, they think. They’d parted ways with Ruslan after a long period of escapades involving their new teammates, and now they have dominion over their own home. They should feel energized, invigorated, ecstatic. But despite all of these ‘shoulds’, the Chosen One is staying planted on the thrift store couch, listening to the clattering of metal. 

Morrow isn’t even sure how to go about fixing a window. They never really had to do anything like that back with the sages, and certainly not while they were under the thumb of the Turnip family. The Pies never really trusted them with things as big as ‘fixing a window’, or ‘hitting the blaseball’. At the memory of that, their face twists into a sort of scowl. You have the Chosen One on your team, the child star of several blockbusters, and you make them into the designated pooper-scooper? Insulting, belittling, and despicable. Morrow should call someone up, give them a piece of their mind, teach them a lesson-

No. No, this isn’t helpful. Morrow takes a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. Getting resentful about the things that have happened, the things they can’t change, isn’t useful here. The Pies cared about them, and the team had kept them safe. Their teammates may have poked some fun at them, but it’s not like Morrow was infallible and didn’t merit some of the jokes. They did struggle with blaseball, and they did tend to get… overly bitter at times. Especially in the days after they were told that the work they’d been doing for the past six or seven years of their life was just another instance of them being a marionette, ignorant of their strings. Those damn Turnips, just like the stupid sages and their stupid parents, who passed them off into that life. Everyone wanted the Chosen One for their own means, and even if the Pies were asking them to do menial tasks, at least they didn’t keep Morrow in the dark about what they were using them to do. Like everyone else does. Like everyone else will. 

The window clatters again, and it brings Morrow into the present. They’re still on this thrift-store couch, now with their fists balled. And in that moment, Morrow realizes that they’re angry. Not just bitterly thinking of their past and wishing things could be different, but angry in the present sense, in the actionable sense. They’re furious that this window and it’s noise won’t stop.

They take hold of the emotion swiftly, clinging onto the first sign of future change, and lunge off the couch towards the window. Morrow feels more than past-tense bitterness, and then they feel themselves emit a wave of magical force towards the infernal noisy window, the exertion feeling like bursting free of a smothering pile of blankets. The window shatters instantly, and the noise it makes is sharper than anything Morrow has heard for the past two years in blaseball. They breathe in, and the air is crisp (and only a little filled with glass shards). 

Morrow stands there for longer than one normally does after breaking a window in their apartment, simply breathing in and out. There’s no more clattering noise. They got angry, took action, and solved the problem. There were no over-complicated shenanigans, no one looking on and watching them, and it was entirely their choice. It was all them.

And maybe they could have done something different, that resulted in them not having to hop around searching for a dustpan to sweep up so much glass. Maybe there was a better path to fixing the rattling. But that was something they could learn, and decide on their own.


	2. missing doubts

Sitting on a cold metal bench in a park a few miles from the blaseball arena, Morrow Wilson is sure that they’re missing something. Not a material thing, of course, they have everything they could want material wise. Their apartment is vastly improved from when they first got it a season or two back. They’ve set up a small succulent garden on the patio, repainted all of the walls and adopted a couple pet rats. Yes, some of the succulents may be a bit odd, and portions of their wall might have been painted just pure lines of black, redacting literally nothing at all, and they're pretty sure these rats are more intelligent than they should be, but none of those are really detrimental. They’re just things that come with being a player on the Houston Spies, and having some of your team members help out with your apartment decorating.

And therein lies the issue; Morrow thinks they must be missing something involving their team. To their knowledge, there’s nothing that would make the team value them so much as a teammate. It’s certainly not their blaseball skill, they’re self-aware enough to know that they’re below average at most of the splort. When Morrow was initially offered the job in the Spies, they assumed that the team had some big plans involving their status of the Chosen One and their under-developed magical talent. Morrow could teleport (only across distances that they could feasible run in the same amount of time), had mild summoning abilities (that only really worked if no one was watching them), and had telekinesis (this one was the only one they were somewhat confident in). Those things all sounded like they could be valuable spy attributes, so when Marco started trying to recruit Morrow, they assumed their powers were going to be the reason the team kept them around. Maybe they’d get given a huge important mission, or be a lynchpin in some grand world-changing scheme. 

Not that Morrow wanted to be a cog in the machine. In fact, it’s something they dreaded. After the issues with the Turnip family, they were very wary about being controlled by a higher force. It’s honestly one of the main reasons they didn’t join up immediately with the Spies once free, despite it being offered. Marco had seemed very earnest about the invitation, but it had been too soon for Morrow to feel comfortable in another group that they believed would have used them as a means to an end. But, after being on the Pies for four seasons, and having to deal with the whole Ruslan situation for a few seasons beyond that, Morrow was welcoming any change to their life. Specifically, they were welcoming any change in living situation. While the Spies didn’t immediately break them out of My Roomie Ruslan, they put in the effort, and eventually did. So at that point, Morrow was willing to go against their general moral code and be a piece of a bigger puzzle, for the sake of gratitude towards the Spies that saved them from that.

But despite that willingness, Morrow hadn’t been sent out on any Chosen One specific missions. There was no big scheme utilizing their powers, nor were they ranked any different due to their status as said Chosen One. They were on the same classified level as their peers on the team, exempting a few higher ranked agents. Morrow used their powers for standard missions just fine, but it didn’t put them above and beyond any of the agents that the Spies already had. The only times they were actually asked to use their powers were mostly just innocent fun, stuff that they really enjoyed doing. It was… nice. It was nice feeling like a part of the team. Which meant that there had to be a catch to the nice stuff. That’s how it was when they discovered the cool magic powers, and when they were enjoying acting. They had to be missing something in the fine print of their team.

Morrow only really thought about this blindspot they must have when they were sitting alone in somewhere unfamiliar, like they were right now. They’ve gotten better about their self-doubt and anger in the past few seasons, thanks to a Spies-recommended therapist, but the idea still came to them from time to time. Sometimes it was hard to grasp the idea that their teammates might just genuinely appreciate them as a person, not just as the Chosen One. But over the seasons, they found themselves putting together all of the information, like a true spy would, and the result time and time again was that their new team did just genuinely like having them around. 

Denzel didn’t have to offer to teach Morrow how to put in a new window, but they did. Alexandria didn’t have to take time out of their day to check in on Morrow and make sure Ruslan hadn’t inexplicitly moved into their apartment, but they did, multiple times, in the first few months Morrow was living on their own. Malik didn’t have to stop by their apartment and show them a few easy recipes to make while living on their own, but xe did. Reese didn’t have to invite Morrow to join in and help with a few pranks on the other teams, but they did. Comfort didn’t have to wait after games and offer Morrow whatever on-brand food they’re eating, but they did. 

Time and time again, the Spies had done things above and beyond what they needed to do for a fellow teammate. Fitz had given Morrow a couple batting tips that definitely helped, Math had given Morrow encouragement in the moments they needed it most, Teddy had been there for them when they just needed a shoulder to lean on, Jordan had given them advice about their place in the world. Sosa and Son would always invite Morrow to their multiplayer video games, Karato offered to teach them to surf if the team ever stayed near the ocean.

And Marco was one of the people that had helped most. Morrow had been wary of Marco at first, thinking them one of the people most likely to try and manipulate them again. Why else would they go so far in trying to get them out of the Pies? But as time went on, Morrow had realized that their intentions weren’t devious. Marco was one of the first people on the Spies that tried to connect to Morrow, even if the first few attempts were a bit awkward. They were the one to insist that Morrow got their own apartment, and went with them to the thrift-store to scavenge for furniture that fit Morrow’s standards. They also were the one to suggest that Morrow could get some sort of pet, if they felt lonely in living on their own. Morrow truly appreciated them, and honestly, at this point, trusted them.

Morrow would have to be willfully ignorant if they didn’t put together all of these facts and realize that their team, somehow, appreciated them. They still felt like they were missing something, like there had to be a catch somewhere, but maybe, just maybe, they could enjoy the now, and ignore the doubt that swarmed them on nights like these.


End file.
